


An Unexpected Question

by Darkestsiren



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Kings Rising, Restraints, Rough Sex, only kinda though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkestsiren/pseuds/Darkestsiren
Summary: Because I'm obsessed with giving these two the happy ending they deserve. And, smut. Clearly. ;-)





	An Unexpected Question

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially inspired by this stunning painting by the talented @neil-minyard. Go check out it their tumblr. Also check out the original post: https://neil-minyard.tumblr.com/post/154930531676/to-maratai-from-yuki-snowfairy-for
> 
>  
> 
> This is unbeta'd so my apologies if there are typos...

 

 

The morning air was ripe with the scent of orange blossoms and salt, the wind sweeping into Ios from the sea, cool and damp, caressing Damen’s sun-warmed skin like a lover. His eyes were trained on the horizon to the northeast, straining for the first sign of Laurent’s vessel. 

A step on the terrace beside him. “Exalted.”

Damen turned, reluctant. 

“The kyroi are gathered,” Nikandros told him, bowing. 

“Everything is in readiness?” 

“It is.”

Damen turned back to the sea, scanning the vast blue expanse for a tell-tale speck. Nothing. 

“I hope he arrives in time. Vask is wavering.”

“I’m sure His Majesty is doing everything he can,” Nikandros assured him. 

Damen beamed at his friend, at the indulgent smile he gave him. 

“He wouldn’t miss this, Damen.” Nikandros smiled, keen eyes sweeping the horizon. “Not after all his scheming.”

Damen grinned. Over the last several months Laurent had changed in many ways, but in this, he was still himself. 

“I’ll tell the kyroi to expect you in a few minutes.” Nikandros withdrew, leaving Damen alone with his longing, yet again. 

“Hurry home, my love,” Damen said to the sea. He turned and followed Nikandros back into the palace. There was still business to attend to. 

Hours later Damen turned his head away from the ever tedious negotiations between his twelve kyroi to listen to a whispered message. When the page backed away Damen stood. 

Silence greeted him, wide, surprised eyes turned up to him in question. 

“The King’s vessel has been sighted,” he told them, viciously repressing a wide smile. Murmurs went around the enormous table, excitement, worry, and from some, anger. It was expected. “The Patran delegation will be close behind. Tomorrow we will sign the treaty banning the sale of slaves between our countries. Go now. Make ready for the banquet.” 

He swept from the meeting room, sure his commands would be followed, and made his way to the terrace again, hurrying to the furthermost point and leaning out against the railing. There it was, in all it’s regal splendor, blue banners flying, replete with Laurent’s golden starburst crest. Damen felt his heart rise in his chest, heavy beats that made his breath catch. After all this time, a fortnight and then some, Laurent would finally be in his arms again. Damen clenched his fists against a new spring of longing.

“Two hours, at the earliest.” 

Damen turned. Makedon had his head cocked, a calculating glint in his grey eyes as he surveyed the scene before them.

“Perfectly timed, as usual.” Damen grinned at his friend. “You have the item I asked for?”

“Of course, Exalted.” Makedon flashed him a grin and bowed. “It’s been delivered to your chambers.”

“Thank you, Makedon.” 

Damen turned back to the sea, to the ship bearing his beloved back to him. The salt air lifted his hair.

The castle was alive with excitement as Damen made his way to his chambers. Servants scurried through the halls, polished white marble floors, shined golden flatware, placed goblets made of shimmering crystal imported from the caves of Isthima beside fine platters of white, glazed porcelain. They hung lush, fragrant garlands of jasmine, and rose, and orange blossoms, arranged thousands of tiny candles, brought in great tables that would later be loaded with delicacies, all in honor of the young King’s triumphant return. 

That, and the Patran delegation trailing behind Laurent. 

Unifying their two countries, Damen was learning, would be the greatest undertaking of his entire rule, requiring far more diplomacy than he liked, and far less time with a certain salty-tongued, yellow-headed prince -- _king_ \-- than he liked. Still, recent negotiations with Patras over the abolishment of slavery had gone surprising well, thanks to Laurent’s superior intellect, and his keen eye for any possible weakness that he could, and would, exploit. In this case, Erasmus, the slave-lover turned freed husband of Torveld, second Prince of Patras.

And, while Laurent had been winning over the Patran monarchy with his vicious wit and icy charms, Damen had been here in Ios convincing Lady Tauress, the ambassador from Vask, to sign a no-trade agreement banning the sale of slaves between their two countries. Tauress had finally agreed, albeit hesitantly, with the stipulation that Patras also sign. The Vaskian delegation was set to depart in two days time, whether the treaty was signed or not. Laurent’s timing couldn’t have been better. 

Of course banning slavery was only one of the many facets involved in forming the nation Damen and Laurent envisioned. Since his ascension a year ago, Damen had been working to bridge the cultural gaps dividing Akielos and Vere. It wasn’t easy but progress was being made. Just today his twelve kyroi had finally consented to institute a system of state holidays that recognized both countries’ traditions. And, along with a substantial peace keeping force, Damen had sent numerous language tutors to every stronghold in the realm with instructions to teach anyone, regardless of status or ability to pay, either Akielon or Veretian, as needed.

The trade industry, it seemed, was the most amenable to unification. Traders already travelled between the two countries, spoke both languages in most cases, and dealt in both Akielon and Veretian currency. It was advantageous that they could now make tax payments to one government instead of two, further incentivizing them toward unification. And, where trade led, the people would follow. Eventually. 

Damen dressed carefully, calculating the effect each garment would have on Laurent. A chiton of shining white linen was gathered at his shoulder, falling just to the middle of his muscular thighs. Damen smiled at the large expanse of his chest that was left bare by the expert way his new servant draped the fabric, at the line of fine gold trim at the hem that drew the eye inexorably downward. He had seen the way Laurent’s eye would sometimes stutter and catch at his hemline. He imagined the faint blush that would creep over Laurent’s cheekbones, the way his lips would thin, his jaw tightening with repressed desire. Damen felt his stomach curl in anticipation. 

Despite the Akielon heat, Damen wore a demi-cloak of rich crimson that brought a healthy, ruddy blush to his skin. He swept the cloak to one side and held it in place with his gold lion’s head pin, flipping it back to bare as much of his shoulders and arms as he could while still hiding the scars on his back. Battle scars were an honor in Akielos and Damen wore them with pride. He would have worn his lashing scars with the same pride, but he knew it hurt Laurent to look upon them. They’d made their peace regarding that incident long ago, just as they had with Auguste, but Damen knew it still burdened him.

Lastly, Damen strapped a ceremonial sword around his hips, tied his sandals, and settled a crown of golden laurels into his clean, dark curls. He polished the cuff around his wrist until it shone, stowed the small box Makedon had given him in the folds of his chiton, and went down to meet Laurent on the palace steps. 

The sun was just beginning its long descent when Laurent’s party at last entered the courtyard. The ruckus was intense, horses and men and banners. The people lining the streets were singing, the men shouting and laughing, the horses whinnying at the chaos. In the din Damen’s eyes went straight to Laurent. He was so easy to pick out amongst the others; flawlessly laced into his dark blue Veretian clothes, skin pale against the saturate sky, the glow of his yellow hair, the impeccable straightness of his back. And most of all, his face. Stern and regal, cold, giving nothing away save the blue fire in his eyes when he met Damen’s gaze.

Damen smiled wide. He did not have Laurent’s capacity to hide his feelings and he was bursting with a fuzzy tightness in his chest, a happy little ache. Laurent merely regarded him cooly, one arrogant, golden brow arching high. 

Damen flushed with heat, his heartbeat heavy. He watched with growing impatience as Laurent gracefully disembarked from his horse and gave curt orders to the men in the courtyard, to the boy who led his horse away, to the servants coming up from the pier, their arms loaded. To Jord, concerning the men. To the heralds, concerning the proper greeting of the Patran fleet when it arrived. To Nikandros, and Makedon.

He really was amazing, Damen thought. He watched the ease and grace with which Laurent commanded, the delicate way he moved amidst the mayhem of the arrival party. He was a thing of lethal beauty, terrible and awe-inspiring to behold, and Damen found his skin prickling as he watched, the pulse of desire already on him.

When Laurent finally approached the steps where he waited Damen was already hard, tenting his chiton unapologetically. Laurent drew his eyes up Damen’s body covertly as he climbed the steps and Damen was rewarded with a subtle pinking of his cheeks.

“Hello, lover.” Lazily. 

Damen smiled again, slow and pleased. He didn’t know how Laurent did it, how he could appear as unaffected by Damen’s presence as he would have been by a merchant or a farmer, when Damen well knew the fire that hid beneath Laurent’s cold exterior. It was a skill he both envied and appreciated, and as much as it had once irritated him, now it filled him with an almost primal need to strip him bare, lather him with softness and pleasure until Laurent came undone beneath him and begged for more. 

“Welcome home, my love.” Damen couldn’t help the roughness of his voice. 

Laurent gained the last step and leaned in close, brushing his lips across Damen’s cheek chastely as he swept past him into the castle. Damen shook his head, smiling to himself as Nikandros bristled beside him. Makedon merely laughed. 

Damen glanced around the courtyard, saw that Laurent had everything well in hand and turned to chase his errant lover down the corridor. 

He needn’t have bothered. 

“Damen.” Laurent’s voice from a hidden alcove near the doors.

Damen turned and this time Laurent didn’t hide his smile. Their lips came together as easily as breathing, Laurent opening for him like a flower, warm and succulent. His hair smelled of sun and salt. Slender arms wrapped around his neck, fingers wove into his hair, pressed into his shoulder. Breath became fast, desperate. 

“I can’t,” Laurent breathed, pulling away. “I want too much.”

“As do I.”

Laurent shook his head. “Later. There’s too much to be done before the Patrans arrive.”

Damen groaned into Laurent’s neck. He had Laurent’s cock pressed up against his own, their bodies moving instinctively together. 

“Damen.”

He was sure it was meant to be an admonishment, but it came out needy, almost a whimper. 

“Laurent.” Damen pressed into him again, enjoying the shiver that went through Laurent’s body. 

“Please,” Laurent breathed. “Later.” He twisted away, fleeing down the corridor. Damen let him go. There would be time. 

The Patrans arrived barely an hour later. Laurent had bathed and changed into a brilliant ice-blue suit and jacket, letting the laces on his wrist open enough to show his cuff. His golden hair was still damp as he stood beside Damen in the growing twilight, waiting to greet the delegation. 

“Prince Torveld,” Damen said, extending his hand. “Our brother of Patras. Welcome.”

Torveld surveyed Damen curiously. “Well, King Damianos, how your circumstances have changed since last we spoke.” His smile was genuine. 

Damen inclined his head. “Indeed they have.”

Torveld laughed, his eyes lighting on Laurent before he turned back to Damen. “And, the new King of Vere is at your side. I thought I sensed something between you back in Arles.”

Damen grinned. At the time he had not yet learned to appreciate Laurent in all his exquisite, tortuous glory but he did recall the way he’d wanted him. Badly.

“How is Erasmus, Torveld?” Laurent said, pulling Torveld’s attention away from Damen. “Is he excited to see Ios once again?”

Torveld grinned. “Of course.” He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering. “Between us, I think he’s a little nervous.”

Damen scanned the courtyard in search of the youth. When he found him he was in the arms of an attractive young man Damen knew had once been in Kastor’s harem. He’d narrowly avoided being executed for his association with Kastor by revealing how he’d kept Erasmus from his rightful place in Damen’s harem, thus saving his life. It seemed the two had long awaited a reunion. Their embrace was heartfelt and Damen dropped his eyes.

Laurent was leading Torveld into the palace, gesturing at various points of interest and giving Torveld a brief history of the place as he went. Damen followed, smiling at how at home Laurent seemed in the palace. He would almost be sorry when they moved to their new capital at Ravenel.

While the Patran party refreshed themselves Laurent oversaw the final preparations for the feast. Damen knew Laurent was avoiding him. There wasn’t time or opportunity for them to be together in the way they both wanted, and so Damen let his icy lover occupy himself with whatever trivialities he wanted. Damen leaned against the great door of the hall and watched him with a small, private smile.

Laurent terrorized the servants, double checked the guest lists, ordered more wine be brought up from the cellars, ordered branches of orange blossoms to be placed in great urns on every table. He fussed and worried and finally fled the banquet hall. Damen didn’t follow him. He knew Laurent needed time to himself. 

The Patrans arrived at the hall moments after Laurent reappeared at Damen’s side. He’d changed again, this time donning a suit of deep, sapphire blue that made his milky skin glow in the dim room. A thin gold circlet sat in his yellow hair, shimmering in the candlelight. He stood beside Damen at the high table, waiting for their guests to find their places, never meeting Damen’s eyes. 

When Lady Tauress and her entourage arrived Laurent gave a signal to the herald and took his seat. Damen sat too, unable to remove his eyes from Laurent’s shining face. He knew he was smiling stupidly. His heart beat too fast. 

“Barbarian,” Laurent mouthed at him, letting the hint of a smile play at the corner of his lips. 

Damen laughed, felt the warmth pulse in his body, and yearned for the end of the evening’s official festivities.

The food arrived, the wine was poured around, the entertainments presented. As the formal aspects of the feast finished the evening took on a less restrictive air and Damen decided to take his chance. 

A hand under Laurent’s elbow. A sly smile. A nod toward the balcony. 

Laurent raised an elegant brow but allowed himself to be pulled away. They managed to slip out unnoticed. 

Laurent was on him at once. Damen crushed Laurent to him, lips opening eagerly for Laurent’s kiss. Damen pressed him back against the still warm stone of the palace, well out of sight of their guests, and took his mouth unabashedly, hands in Laurent’s hair, on his throat, his jaw. Laurent let out a small noise of need and bucked against Damen. Damen’s breath hitched and he leaned his head into the crook of Laurent’s shoulder, hands caressing thin hips, cock hard and hot against Laurent’s. 

“Damen.” Barely a breath.

“I missed you.” He felt Laurent smile. 

“Please.” 

Damen felt Laurent push him down. He went to his knees happily, drew his nose over the pleasing bulge in Laurent’s pants, looked up. Laurent had his eyes pressed shut, his lip between his teeth. It was as close to abandoned as he would get, fully clothed out here on the balcony, but Damen would take anything Laurent would give him. Damen made quick work of Laurent’s lacings and soon he was nose deep in his golden curls, his mouth full of Laurent’s delicious cock, relishing the quick, nearly repressed gasp that came from his lover. 

Damen sucked Laurent lovingly, slowly, the way he liked, tongue laving up the sides and over the head, tasting the salty dew at the tip before swallowing him again. It had taken Laurent a long time to learn to let himself enjoy this, to allow himself to come in Damen’s mouth, and he still sometimes had trouble with it. Damen urged him gently, his hands on the soft, round swell of his ass. Laurent’s fingers curled into Damen’s hair appreciatively, his hips pulsing into Damen’s mouth as he got closer. 

“Damen.” A whisper. A plea.

Damen followed the subtle cues of Laurent’s body. The speed of his hips, the pressure of Laurent’s hands in his hair. He licked slowly, took him in fast, swallowing around him, pulled off slowly. He hollowed out his cheeks around the head, heart skipping as Laurent tightened his grip in his hair. 

“Damen.” A gasp. 

Damen slowed, working his hands in circles on Laurent’s ass, his thighs. Damen lifted one of Laurent’s legs until he could settle it over his shoulder and snuggle in ever more closely. This time Laurent moaned, his mouth snapping shut as he realized what he’d done. Damen cradled his sack, reaching into his pants to slide a finger between his legs. At this angle Damen thought he could manage one finger. He pulled his mouth off Laurent’s cock long enough to moisten one long finger, his eyes on Laurent. 

His blue eyes were dark, glassy with desire, his cheeks pinked delightfully. Damen slid his finger into place and pressed lightly on Laurent’s warm pucker, lips closing around his cock again. Laurent’s head hit the wall, his stomach muscles clenching as Damen pushed inside him gently, slowly stretching him open. He moved his mouth over Laurent’s cock once more, slowly, and Laurent came silently, jerking, his hands tight in Damen’s hair, pulsing hot liquid down Damen’s ready throat. 

“Damen.” A sigh. 

Damen held him close for a moment, unwilling to end it. Laurent lowered his leg and wriggled until Damen laughed and disengaged himself. He laced Laurent back into his pants and stood, the stiffness of his own untouched cock between them. 

Laurent smiled, meeting his eyes with unguarded affection. This was the Laurent he’d been aching for, open and true. Damen drew his fingers over Laurent’s heated cheek and leaned in to kiss him. 

“We should get back. Someone will come looking for us.”

Laurent ignored his own advice. He reached between them, rucked up Damen’s chiton and palmed his cock. Damen sighed heavily, resting his head on Laurent’s shoulder, his fingers gentle at Laurent’s throat.

With one hand on the back of Damen’s neck Laurent stroked Damen to climax quickly, deftly dipping to his knees to catch the spill in his mouth. Damen gasped in surprise, his hips stuttering as he lost himself in Laurent’s hot mouth.

Laurent stood, wiped his mouth carefully, and smirked at Damen’s spent expression. “I hope I haven’t tired you already, barbarian. I’m far from finished with you,” he said, voice ice cold. 

Damen tensed, almost ready to come again. Instead he reached into the folds of his chiton and pulled out the little box he’d stowed there earlier.

Laurent watched him with careful disregard. 

“Laurent,” Damen said, clearing his throat. He opened the box and placed it in Laurent’s hand, waiting for those blue eyes to find his. When they did Damen found them shyly confused, cautiously hopeful. “I want you, every day, every night, for the rest of my life. And beyond, if that’s possible.” 

Laurent didn’t breathe.

Though they’d essentially agreed upon this course after Laurent had killed Kastor in the slave baths, the practicalities of establishing their rule and uniting their two countries had set such romantic endeavors to the side. They hadn’t discussed it but Damen had begun to feel that Laurent had dismissed the idea as an idealistic dream. Damen had other ideas.

Damen took the box from Laurent, extricated a small gold ring inlaid with sapphires and diamonds, and slid it onto Laurent’s finger, cupping his hand tenderly. His heart stuttered with hope and nerves. Laurent held himself very still.

Damen waited, swallowing his fear.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Laurent relaxed. Just a subtle softening of his shoulders.

Damen gazed into Laurent’s wide eyes. His smile was small and sure. “Marry me, Laurent.”

Laurent closed his eyes, his face carefully blank but his fingers tightened ever so slightly, the muscles clenching despite Laurent’s iron control.

Damen waited.

The sounds of drunken laughter filtered in through the balcony’s open doors. 

The smallest hint of a smile lifted Laurent’s lips. Damen felt himself breathe again. He gathered Laurent into his arms, nuzzled into his hair. “I love you.” His heart felt light.

Laurent returned Damen’s embrace, his face in the warmth of Damen’s neck. “I love you, Damianos.”

His tone made Damen still. He pulled back just enough to see Laurent’s stormy face, the expression open where before it had been hidden. 

“I know it’s unusual for two King’s to wed,” Damen allowed. Softly.

“Unheard of.” Cold. 

Damen knew Laurent was trying to protect himself. He also knew there was no need. 

“But,” he continued. “I had the scribes search the laws of both our countries for a precedent. For anything that could keep us from marrying.”

He stopped, waited for Laurent to infer the rest. When understanding came into his eyes, Damen smiled and asked again. 

“Marry me, Laurent. Let me love you forever.” 

“You’re certain?”

Damen smiled. He knew what Laurent was asking. “I’ve already put it to the Council. There is mild opposition from a few, but nothing we can’t overcome. I’m certain.”

Laurent was on him then, chest pressing into Damen’s, arms like steel banding around his neck, tight and hard, face pressed into Damen’s warmth. His whole body was tensed, taut. Damen’s arms folded around him, held him just as tight, nestled into his embrace. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked finally.

A small nod. Arms closing still tighter. “Yes.” Breathed. 

Damen felt it move through him. Tension released, a buoyant lightness filling him up until he grabbed hold of Laurent’s slim waist and spun him around like a dervish in the blossom-scented night.

“Laurent.” Happily. 

On his feet again, Laurent unwound his arms and looked into Damen’s face. The slightest blush danced over his cheeks and his blue eyes shone in the moonlight. He raised himself up on his toes and kissed Damen lightly on the mouth. Damen kissed him back, limbs soft around Laurent as he pressed him back into the stone again. After a while Laurent pushed him away.

“Not this again,” he smirked. “At least take me to your chambers if you’re going to ravish me, you brute.”

Damen grinned wickedly. 

A throat was cleared, loudly, nearby. Damen turned to find Nikandros frowning at them. 

“Exalted.”

“Nik.” Damen couldn’t help the breathless joy that exuded from him.

Nikandros shifted his gaze to Laurent and Damen wondered what he saw. Nikandros’ face softened. He turned his eyes back to Damen, fighting a smile as he looked at his old friend. “All went as hoped, it seems?”

Damen grinned down at Laurent. Laurent glowered but his lips twitched up seemingly uncontrollably and his eyes were sparkling. Damen felt impossibly lucky.

“Tell the herald,” Damen said, still looking at Laurent. “We’ll announce tonight.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows. 

“I thought you might,” Nikandros said. He stepped closer. 

Damen turned, curious, and a little annoyed that Nik hadn’t immediately carried out his command. 

“Congratulations, Damen. Laurent.” Nikandros circled an arm around Damen’s shoulder, offering his other to Laurent, a question on his dark face. 

Laurent regarded him with suspicion for a moment but then he smiled, his face more open than he’d ever let himself be around Nikandros before, and allowed himself to be hugged.

“Thank you, old friend,” Damen said into Nik’s embrace. 

After a moment they all dropped their arms and stood back. Laurent schooled his features back to his customary icy stillness. Damen grinned. 

“Yes,” Laurent said, not quite managing his usual careless tenor. “Thank you, Nikandros.” He bit his lip, fighting something within himself. 

Damen watched him, silently holding Nikandros in place with a look. 

“New friend.” Quietly. Unsure. 

Nikandros stared at Laurent in stunned horror. Damen bit back a growl. Laurent smiled lazily, his posture carefully neutral. Damen knew what it had taken for Laurent to offer friendship to Nikandros, how much he wanted, and needed friends, how utterly terrifying it was for him to make himself vulnerable in this way. He wanted to punch Nikandros in the guts for hesitating but he didn’t. He just waited. 

“New friend,” Nikandros finally agreed. He offered his hand and Laurent took it, his smile genuine again. 

Damen let out a tense breath. It would have been unfortunate if he’d had to send his best friend to some far off territory.

Nikandros backed away, nodding to each of them. “Exalted, Majesty.” With that he turned and ducked back into the hall, presumably to speak to the herald. 

Damen had prepared for this as well. 

A few minutes later when they reentered the hall, Laurent couldn’t hide his gasp. Damen grinned, watching him take in the new decor. 

Laurent turned his imperious scowl on Damen, eyes glittering. “So confident of my answer?” 

Damen smiled softly. “Just very, very hopeful.”

Laurent hummed but Damen could see he was pleased. He watched Laurent look up at the new banners now hanging around the hall, an elegant blend of the crests of both Vere and Akielos finely woven in blue and red and gold, and he felt his place in the world finally settle and take hold. He wove his fingers into Laurent’s and led him back to the high table.

When they were ready he signaled the herald. The musicians ceased, Damen rose, and the hall fell silent. Damen looked down at Laurent, smiled, pulled at their linked hands. Laurent stood beside him, spine straight, regal and strong. A true king. 

“Friends!” Damen shouted across the hushed crowd. He looked at Laurent again, his whole being shining with happiness.

Laurent shook his head fondly, a tiny smile curling the corner of his lips. 

Damen turned back to his guests. “It is with the utmost joy,” he said, “that we announce our marriage to the King of Vere!” He raised their linked hands between them in triumph and savored the roar of approval and congratulations that rippled through the assembled crowd. Generals and bannermen pounded their cups against the tables, ladies of the court cheered and held each other happily, servants smiled and wiped their eyes, busying themselves with their tasks. Even Lady Tauress gave a wild, joyous shout, holding her goblet aloft.

Torveld lifted his own goblet to the high table, his eyes teary and his smile wide. “May you have all the happiness in your match that I have found in mine,” he said, pulling Erasmus tight against him. Erasmus blushed, leaning into Torveld’s touch, his smile turned to the royal couple. 

Laurent lowered their arms and tipped his head up. “It has been a long road to unification,” he said, voice strong. “It is our hope that this marriage…” Laurent paused, looked at Damen. Took a steadying breath. “Whilst being a love match,” he said with obvious difficutly, “will help to solidify the union between our two nations.”

Another roar of approval erupted from the hall, followed by shouts of congratulations and jubilant wishes for a happy future. Damen saw Laurent let himself smile. He felt his chest swell and he squeezed Laurent’s hand in his, happiness and love thick in his blood.

“And with that, friends,” Damen said, raising his voice over the tumult. “We bid you goodnight!” Amidst the hoots and jeers following that statement, Damen pulled Laurent toward the door, nodding to Jord and Nikandros as they fled the hall. 

Laurent ran beside him, his grin boyish and free, bright hair streaming behind him. Damen turned on his heel and pulled Laurent into a corner alcove with a mischievous grin. Laurent pressed his lithe body into Damen’s muscled curves, stars in his eyes, and kissed him hard. Damen’s hands came up to Laurent’s cheeks and he pulled him in hungrily, hard in seconds though he’d spilt into Laurent’s willing mouth only moments before. He growled into Laurent’s mouth and the younger man laughed, biting Damen’s lip as he released him. Damen wanted to hear that sound every day for forever. 

Laurent danced back with a smirk. An arched brow. An elegant finger, crooked. He spun and took off down the hall. Damen leapt away from the wall and gave chase, sandaled feet thumping against marble. 

Laurent kept just out of reach, feet moving swiftly as he skipped and spun and led Damen who knew where. A turn. Another. The flash of a grin, the sparkle of deep blue eyes caught by the warm flare of the torches. Damen lost track of where they were, so intent was he on Laurent’s graceful form. The supple shape of his legs, the alluring roundness of his perfect ass, those broad shoulders and muscled arms. The trim waist. Laurent’s glorious golden hair. 

Dipping into a darkened room after Laurent, Damen slowed, searching the gloom for his impish lover. At the far end of the chamber a dark mass loomed heavily against the wall and Damen realized with a little jolt that they were in the throne room. He grinned to himself in the dark and closed the heavy doors behind him. 

Laurent was sprawled on Damen’s throne, one leg thrown carelessly over the arm, the other extended forward, beckoning. His head leaned lazily on one fine wrist, languid smile in sharp contrast to the fire in his dark eyes. His circlet hung carelessly from one graceful finger.

Damen took him in slowly, letting the ache of his beauty settle over him. The quiet was full with his heart beat. He walked leisurely, enjoying the appraising manner in which Laurent regarded him. When he gained the dais Damen sank to his knees. He drew his fingertips up Laurent’s thighs, unhurried. The circlet fell to the plush carpet, forgotten.

“This chair is sturdy, is it not?” Laurent asked, unconcerned. 

Damen grinned, already guessing Laurent’s intent. It was salacious, indecent, the height of impropriety, especially for a king. Two kings. Damen felt the thrum of desire pulse in his blood. He brought his hands to Laurent’s hips and hefted him up sharply, squaring him off so his lissome thighs bracketed Damen’s waist. 

“It is.”

Laurent settled into this new position with the same grace with which he did everything. He fingered the lion’s pin at Damen shoulder, expression as insouciant as it had ever been, save for the intensity in his eyes. 

Damen swiped his laurels from his head and leaned forward slowly, inch by inch, until his lips touched the long, cool column of Laurent’s throat. He kissed softly, barely a brush of his lips, and smiled when he felt Laurent shudder. 

“Damen.” Fingers tight on his shoulders.

Damen nibbled from jaw to shoulder and back again, lips soft on white skin, breathing in the warm, fresh smell of soap, the spice of Laurent’s natural scent, the thick-sweet aroma of want. Heat curled in his stomach. Laurent angled his head thoughtfully, allowing Damen better purchase, a short breath pushing out between pinked lips. Damen slowed his kiss, nosing softly, drawing his tongue over Laurent’s too fine throat in languid strokes. Laurent arched, pressing forward into Damen’s chest, fingers digging into thick dark curls, one hand carelessly releasing the lion pin, allowing Damen’s chiton to pool around his waist. 

Laurent leaned away. His chest moved with his breath. Damen regarded him gently, massaging slow circles into his hips. Laurent’s fine face was flushed, eyes wide, dark, even in the darkened hall. 

“I want too much,” Laurent said, steady.

“As do I,” Damen answered as before, breathing into the silence. “Laurent.”

Laurent pulled him in then, almost wildly, lips heated and eager against Damen’s mouth. Damen gave himself over to the kiss. Kissing Laurent was always a singular pleasure, requiring all of his attention. Laurent kissed him with tight desire, too long repressed. It was hot and sharp, his movements hard with tension. Damen pressed him back into the cushioned throne, using his weight to reassure and anchor. After a time the strain in Laurent’s body softened, his breath slowing, tongue sliding against Damen’s with intoxicating abandon.

This time when Damen trailed his lips down the white column of Laurent’s throat, Damen heard the hitch of his breath, felt the rising swell in Laurent’s body. Nimble fingers went to Laurent’s pants and worked the laces expertly, enjoying the way his thin hips moved, almost unconsciously, chasing pleasure. 

“Damen.” A warning. Even before Damen touched him. 

“Come, love,” Damen whispered into his neck. He took Laurent’s cock in hand and gave him one slow stroke, smiling as Laurent jerked beneath him, calling his name into the still air around them.

Once Laurent could breathe Damen dipped down and licked the spill from his fingers, from the smooth skin at Laurent’s stomach, and, finally, from his still straining cock. Fingers tensed in his hair. Damen smiled. He drew slow hands down Laurent’s legs, following the progress of hands with lips, kissed the line of his soft leather boots, worked the buttons and pulled them from Laurent’s feet, soon followed by his fine, sapphire pants. Damen looked up to Laurent’s fond smile and his heart thudded heavily in his chest, aching with the unexpected joy of having Laurent like this, unbound and free before him. 

Damen stood. He unbuckled his sword belt, letting the chiton, cloak and sword fall to the floor with a clang. One golden brow arched in response as Laurent looked Damen up and down, eyes lingering in his favorite places. The curve of his shoulders and arms, the roundness of his thighs, the hard line of flat muscle in the dip of his hips. His cock, long and dark and eager. Laurent pulled his lower lip between his teeth, hunger plain in his eyes as cool fingers went to the laces still tied at his throat. Damen swore.

“How do you want me?” Damen asked. Rough. 

Laurent was silent for a long moment, looking his fill. Damen let him. Slowly, the laces opened, the deep blue brocade fell away, leaving a white shirt that was so thin as to be almost sheer. Pink nipples pressed up into the soft fabric.

“I want you to lick me open,” Laurent said idly. “I want you to fuck me on your fingers with your mouth around my cock until I come down your throat. Then I want your cock, fast and deep. I want you to bend me over this chair, hold my arms behind my back, and fuck me so hard I can’t remember my own name.”

Damen went to his knees heavily, breath catching.

“Anything,” he breathed, meaning it. Dark eyes held Laurent’s. 

Laurent blushed beautifully. Damen kissed him, lips tender on burning cheeks, slick as they slid against Laurent’s, gentle as he sealed their mouths together and took him deep, arms winding behind Laurent’s back. Damen pressed Laurent into his chest and leaned back, pulling the jacket and shirt from Laurent’s swordsman’s shoulders and arms, arms that came around him once free of the fabric, nails trailing over heated skin. Damen moaned into Laurent’s mouth at the sensation, resisting the urge to thrust.

Damen moved down Laurent’s body slowly, tasting every inch of his fine, pale skin, delighting in the soft sounds Laurent allowed himself. He didn’t hurry and Laurent didn’t ask, knowing Damen liked to take his time. When at last Damen reached Laurent’s apex his cock was straining and wet, the tip deliciously pink, and Damen couldn’t resist a quick taste. 

Damen heard Laurent’s head hit the back of the chair and allowed himself a small smile. He pulled off Laurent’s cock with a long lick and draped Laurent’s slim, muscular thighs over his shoulders. He buried his face in Laurent’s heat, nosing his sac before he licked a long, slow stripe over his hole that left Laurent keening. The sound brought a moan to Damen’s lips and he pressed his mouth to Laurent’s entrance, letting the sound loose inside him.

Cream thighs shook around him. 

Damen used his tongue slowly, licking around the pucker gently. He knew Laurent would be tight. They hadn’t been together in weeks and Damen knew Laurent wasn’t fond of touching himself. At least, not yet. He pressed inside gradually, enjoying the sharp sound of pleasure Laurent made, circling his tongue in the tight space, easing him open. Laurent relaxed for him beautifully, his breath uneven, thighs shaking, and Damen wanted to make him come just like this. With only his tongue. 

Laurent’s hips began to rock with Damen’s movements. He allowed it for a time, wanting Laurent to feel everything, to have everything. Damen teased a finger in alongside his tongue, gently adding to the stretch. Cool fingers curled into his hair, not guiding, just holding, and Damen felt the ache in his chest. He brought his hand across Laurent’s stomach, holding his hips in place as he began to fuck into him, finger and tongue moving together. 

A sharp gasp. Damen removed his finger and smoothed his hand up and down Laurent’s thigh, steadying him wordlessly. Laurent’s breathing changed from hurried and shaky to long and deep and Damen smiled. He slid two fingers in this time, slick with saliva, licking soft circles around Laurent’s entrance, the skin pulled tight around his fingers. 

It was then he realized the problem. He could bring Laurent off with his mouth and fingers, but without oil he couldn’t fuck him. Damen’s cock twitched between his legs, impatient and untouched, pulsing with each stroke of his fingers inside Laurent. 

Damen ignored it, pushing his fingers in deeper, searching. When he found what he sought Laurent moaned loud, his back arching. Damen couldn’t resist looking. Laurent was flushed a deep, stunning red, lips bitten and swollen, eyes pressed shut even as his mouth fell open. He was achingly beautiful. Damen felt it deep in his body.

“Laurent.” A whimper.

Blue eyes, dark and glassy, slitted open. 

Damen stroked again, again finding that place inside Laurent that sent pleasure shattering through his whole body. 

Laurent held his gaze, riding the sensation with a choked cry. 

“I love you.” 

Laurent let his eyes fall closed again, a small smile lighting his face. He fisted Damen’s hair. Damen mouthed at his entrance once more, gently adding a third finger. He fucked in slow and deep, spreading his fingers gradually, giving Laurent as much girth as he could take. He crooked his fingers so that each stroke touched his pleasure center, relishing in the tremors, poorly repressed, that shook through Laurent each time. 

Moving languidly, almost drunk on Laurent’s pliant body, Damen took Laurent’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him in heat. He let the head push down into his throat until his nose was nestled in Laurent’s soft, yellow curls, and hummed. 

Laurent cried out, his hips stuttering. Damen made himself move slowly, knowing what it did to his lover. He drew off Laurent’s cock, pulling his fingers back as well, then pressed in deep as he swallowed Laurent again. 

“Damen.” Breathy. Delightfully needy. 

One more thrust and Laurent was spilling down Damen’s throat, hot and tangy, his thighs tensing around Damen’s head, muscles clenching around his fingers. Damen’s cock pulsed hard, weeping at the tip, desperate for Laurent’s tight heat. He ignored it, milking the last of Laurent’s release from him as gently as he could. When the shaking subsided Damen rose up on his knees and took Laurent into his arms, nestling into his neck. Laurent was liquid against him, warm and boneless. 

“There’s no oil,” Damen said after a time. 

Laurent turned his head and kissed Damen’s neck softly. He bent sideways then, reaching blindly to the floor. When he straightened he held a small phial of oil and a delicate smirk. 

Damen grinned, shaking his head. “I never doubted you for a moment,” he said. 

“Of course you didn’t,” Laurent remarked. His eyes lingered on Damen’s lips. 

Damen realized another problem. Laurent wouldn’t kiss him after what he’d done, not without a careful rinsing. Damen wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and bent to nose at Laurent’s neck, his cock straining between them. 

Laurent stopped him with a hand on his jaw. “Kiss me.” An order. 

Heat flared in his chest. Damen kissed him. A cool hand found its way to Damen’s cock, stroking him lightly, making Damen shudder. 

“Laurent.”

“Fuck me,” Laurent said, pushing Damen back. It was as close to begging as Laurent was ever likely to come.

Damen felt Laurent’s desire as his own, the request seeping into his being. He enjoyed a secret thrill when Laurent gave him orders, a proclivity he would deny in all other company. 

“Now.” Sharp.

If possible, Damen hardened even more. He stood, flipped Laurent over and pushed his knees up onto the seat cushion, spreading them wide. The view was lovely and Damen paused to admire it. The smooth expanse of Laurent’s back, the pleasing roundness of his ass, the tightness in his thighs as he knelt on the chair. 

It was a large chair, luckily. Damen settled in behind Laurent, knees along the inside of Laurent’s. He placed Laurent’s hands in front of them on the back of the chair, taking possession of the phial and slicking his cock liberally with the scented oil. Damen tossed the phial over his shoulder. Laurent laughed when it shattered against the stone floor. 

“Barbarian.”

Damen grinned. He pulled Laurent’s hips back until he was practically sitting in Damen’s lap, and lined himself up. He ran a slow hand up Laurent’s pale, smooth back, pressing him down as he appreciated the fine lines, the elegant way Laurent held himself, the impatient tension in his shoulders. 

Damen leaned over him, lips on the back of Laurent’s neck, and whispered. “Give me your hands.” 

A shudder went through Laurent but he did as he was told. Damen bent Laurent’s arms at the elbow and crossed them behind his back. After a word from Damen, Laurent grasped his forearms so they were linked across his back. Damen pressed forward until he could place his right forearm on the back of the throne.

“Lean on me,” Damen instructed, shielding Laurent’s pretty face from the rough, carved wood of the throne with his forearm. Laurent complied, his forehead pressing into the dark skin on Damen’s arm. His breathing was spiking, unsteady. Nervous. Damen smoothed his free hand down his back and sides, over his taut stomach, waiting, licking lazy designs into Laurent’s neck and shoulders until he relaxed. 

“Do it.”

Damen chuckled. “You’ll have to push back against my thrusts or we’ll tip over,” he warned. 

A pause. A small nod. 

Damen reached down, entered Laurent with careful fingers, testing. 

“Your cock, Damen,” Laurent barked.

Damen bit back a curse. He positioned himself and pushed into Laurent, long and smooth. Laurent opened for him beautifully, the hot slide exquisite, his tight sheath making Damen shudder and hunch over Laurent, gasping.

“God, Laurent.”

Laurent’s teeth sank into his lip. Damen froze. 

“Ok?” He could see Laurent fighting, his jaw clenched tight, but he didn’t move away. Damen drew his hand up and down Laurent’s flank softly, easing him with gentle touches. 

“Yes,” Laurent said, at last. “You’re just such a giant animal.” He laughed. Damen eased in the last few inches and Laurent moaned, leaning heavily on Damen’s arm. “Yes.”

That ‘yes’ echoed through Damen’s body. Moving with determined slowness Damen withdrew, all the way to the tip, and pushed back inside, pulling Laurent’s hips hard against him. Laurent gasped, eyes fluttering. 

Damen began a steady, slow rhythm, easing Laurent into it gently, letting the urgency build up between them. He pushed up into Laurent, using his legs, Laurent pushing back against him. The tight slide was heady, the shock of being engulfed, consumed by Laurent after so long, made Damen feel wild with passion.

“Harder, Damen.” Breathless. “Please. I want it hard. Don’t be gentle. You won’t hurt me.”

“Laurent.” Blind with desire, always willing to give Laurent whatever he wanted, Damen fucked up into him with new vigor, the tops of his thighs slapping against the backs of Laurent’s. Laurent met his every thrust, slamming back into Damen with enough force that Damen had a momentary fear that he’d be thrown from the chair. 

“More,” Laurent demanded, arching his back. His cheeks were bright. 

Damen slid his knees from the chair and stood, pulling Laurent back with him. Laurent bent forward, his face pressed to the seat cushion, arms still gripped behind him. He was the most gorgeous thing Damen had ever seen. 

Mine, Damen thought, savagely. Protective. 

Damen laced his hand around Laurent’s linked arms and used the leverage that gave him to fuck into Laurent the way he wanted. Hard. Fast. Deep.

“Yes.” Moaned into the chair cushions. “Yes.”

Damen lost himself to the rhythm, to the sound of Laurent’s pleasure.

He hadn’t fucked like this in a long time. Not since the days before Kastor gave him to Laurent as a pleasure slave. Then, it had been with a slave. The thought made him nauseous. Now, though, it was different. Now, it was Laurent under him. 

Icy, reserved Laurent came apart breathlessly beneath Damen, as unbridled and passionate as any young man in the flower of his youth. With each push in he cried out, his body soft and yielding, taking every thick inch Damen gave him. There were tears in his eyes, his cheeks stained red, hair matted, but still he moaned and asked for more.

Damen felt it for what it was. Tight-laced Laurent allowing himself the pleasure he seldom acknowledged, giving himself over to it with abandon. Relinquishing control. Damen held the moment inside himself as carefully as he could. 

“Damen.” A plea. 

Damen flicked his hips faster, both hands pulling Laurent hard into him, with each stroke, sinking impossibly deep. Damen shifted his thrust, titling at the last moment, and Laurent screamed. 

That was a sound Damen wanted to hear every day. He wrapped his arm around Laurent and titled his hips again, pounding into him, letting Laurent’s reactions be his guide. 

He was close. Laurent was close too, Damen knew, probably holding off his own orgasm to prolong Damen’s pleasure. That was the kind of lover Laurent was. 

“Come, Laurent,” Damen moaned. “Come for me, love.”

He cupped Laurent’s cock and stroked him once. Laurent bucked viciously, muscles clenching around Damen’s length, milking him as he came, spilling nonsense from his lips and seed over Damen’s hand. Damen held him tight and came too, calling Laurent’s name as he filled him with his seed, collapsed over his back and sealed his I love you’s into Laurent’s heated, glistening skin.

Once he’d caught his breath Damen pulled out gently. Laurent was limp before him, still panting into the cushion, his body sagging with exhaustion. Damen lifted him and turned, sitting himself in his throne with Laurent strewn across him. He wrapped Laurent in his arms, nuzzling in his hair, hands trailing in soft caresses down Laurent’s back. Laurent allowed himself to be cuddled and Damen smiled. 

“Was that ok?”

A small nod, brushed into Damen’s chest. “Thank you, Damianos.” Breathless. “I know it was,” Laurent stopped, considered. “Different.”

“Anything, love,” Damen told him. Soft in the darkness. 

Laurent shivered. “Betrothed.” He looked up, his eyes soft and wide. Damen cupped his cheek and pulled him in. The kiss was soft and full.

“I missed you,” Laurent said, sleep-slurred already.

Damen’s arms tightened around him. “More than you can imagine, Laurent.” 

Laurent made a happy, sleepy noise. Damen closed his eyes and smiled. He would never let go of this feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> And there it is! Please let me know what you thought. I'm always eager for feedback. ;)


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